Final Alchemy
by The Quiller
Summary: /Edward Elric is many things: stubborn, resilient, and brilliant, but not a hero, and certainly not a savior of the world. So Karma dictates that saving the world is exactly what he'll be called to do./
1. Chapter I: Homeward Bound

Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist, have never owned Fullmetal Alchemist, and probably will never own Fullmetal Alchemist. Sad, ain't it?

Author's Note: _Final Alchemy takes place as a direct sequel to the last episode in the anime series of FMA, but does not take events of the Fullmetal Alchemist movie, Conqueror of Shambala, into account._

Summary: Ed finds a way to return to Amestris after five long years, but the Gate enlists his help in return. As he goes about his task, Edward Elric makes a single, shattering discovery - the Gate is crumbling, and both worlds are on collision course. The search for a solution leads him to the legend of Xerxes, through the diaries of Dante, and finally, to his own father's unfulfilled legacy from four hundred years ago. And in the end, Ed realizes he was the one holding the answers all along.

Final Alchemy

Chapter I: Homeward Bound

'_Well, I can only teach you two things – to dig, and to love your home__.__'_

_-__Badger, __'The Once and Future King'__ by T. H. White_

_

* * *

_

_Earth, 1927_

It had rained after all. Oberth squinted through the gray downpour as mechanics and engineers scrambled over, under, and around the flimsy craft, checking their schematic diagrams or tacking equipment to the grass underneath the water-resistant tarp.

The sharp, clear voice of his partner was barking out orders loud enough to be heard over the rumbling storm. Even from a distance, he could see the silhouette of his associate, recognizable by the bold and exaggerated gestures his partner made. He couldn't help but admire the man's raw determination. Alone, Oberth had been powerless, but now –

Now, all of their plans, all of their hard-work and meager funding had become reality. In another ten minutes, five long years of hard work would either come to fruition, or crash in a wreck of so much twisted metal and flames. The rain was not the only thing that chilled him to the bones.

'_We're ready, sir__!_' He heard one of the mechanics yell over the distance. Similar shouts replied in confirmation. Oberth wiped the matted brown hair out of his eyes and stared intently towards the massive craft in case he missed the signal flare.

His partner was already out of sight, settled into the cockpit of their functional flying machine. In theory. The engineer standing near him began to pray as the craft roared to life, but he did not. He knew it would work; it had to work - he may not have trusted God, but he trusted his partner.

The craft took off with dozens of eyes following its cumbersome ascent. He watched the craft wordlessly as it rose higher and higher, almost out of sight –

_Flash._ A bolt of white lightning blinded him, and he stumbled backwards in surprise_._

When he could see and hear again, the craft – and its pilot – were gone.

* * *

Risembool was barely town and mostly countryside, where the nearest house was a fifteen-minute trek through a wheat field away. No one locked their doors simply because no thief was dumb enough to look for anything of value here. News traveled in the blink of an eye, partially because everyone knew everyone else and partially because voices traveled really well over the quiet countryside.

That was also why he could hear Winry shouting at him even when he was all the way across the river.

"Al! Get over here, now!"

Thirteen-year-old Alphonse Elric let out a sigh, closed the book he was reading, and dusted himself off before pushing himself onto his feet. He hadn't been planning on staying by the river much longer – the sun was setting, and soon there wouldn't be enough light to read by anyway. He set off for the Rockbell house at a brisk jog with the thick alchemy book tucked under his arm and with a warm autumn breeze at his back. A short five minutes later, he could see the homely glow of lamplight through the porch windows of home.

Winry Rockbell was waiting for him. With a wrench. She didn't look especially pleased to see him.

Al cringed inwardly, but was relieved to see the oil stains on Winry's clothes. She had been working on automail, which explained the wrench in a non-violent way. Still, she looked extremely impatient, and annoyance was written clearly all over her face.

He gulped and upped his pace. "Hey, Winry."

"Al," She frowned and gestured towards the house with her chin. "An official came to see you."

Al's heart missed a beat. He had sent off his registration for the State Alchemist exams weeks ago – never mind the fact that he was still too young. If they had sent an official to interview him, then he must have passed the first round of selection, which meant that he had a shot at the exam, which meant he was one step closer to finding his brother. Al's thoughts whirled into a jumbled mess of possibilities as he tried to swallow his excitement and calmly open the door.

Aunt Pinako was waiting for him in the hall, still wearing her dinner apron and oven mitts. Next to her stood his one-time teacher – Izumi Curtis – wearing an extremely displeased expression that promised a long and painful interrogation afterwards. But before Al could begin imagining the unusual tortures that Izumi would inflict, he glimpsed a telltale flash of military blue around the corner.

A man with jet black hair and an equally black eye-patch stepped into view, and Al felt his jaw drop.

"G-General Mustang!" Al squeaked, trying his best to keep from outright goggling at the military officer. What in the world was such an important person doing here? In Risembool, in this house, _here_? Al had only ever seen the man in the newspapers or on a podium during military exercises.

The man, however, seemed perfectly at ease leaning against the wall in the tiny hallway of the Rockbell home. "Alphonse Elric. You applied for the State Alchemist Exam after all."

Al immediately straightened unconsciously and raised his chin. "Yes, sir."

"Despite knowing that you are five years below the minimum age?" There was something sharp in General Mustang's eyes, but Al couldn't make out exactly what. Instead, he steeled himself, then nodded, once, and met the General's piercing gaze with all the determination he could muster.

"My brother proved that the Exam accepts exceptions to the minimum age requirement." His voice shook, but only a little.

To his surprise, the General chuckled and gingerly rubbed his eye patch before his expression settled into a knowing smirk. "You really are your brother's brother." Then the smirk faded and was replaced by an unreadable expression. "Fullmetal was one of the most talented alchemists this nation has ever seen. That's a lot to live up to. Not only that, but once the military gets its leash around your neck, you're signing away your freedom for as long as we keep you."

"Al…" Winry murmured, placing a hand on his shoulder. Al wasn't sure if she was trying to reassure him or stop him, but either way, he had made up his mind ages ago. From the moment he woke up and found his brother gone without a trace.

The boy swallowed. "I don't care, as long as it means I can find my brother."

General Mustang smirked again, though this time, it was a little closer to a smile. Winry's grasp on his shoulder tightened and Izumi snorted in disgust. Al's erstwhile alchemy teacher fixed her student with a glare (was that a hint of gentleness, or was he imagining it?) and growled, "Don't come running back to us crying."

Mustang straightened his coat, then reached inside and pulled out a crisp, sealed envelope stamped with the military emblem. "I'll see you in Central in a week, then, Alphonse."

"Will you stay for dinner?" asked Aunt Pinako.

The man shook his head and politely refused. "I appreciate the sentiment, but I'm afraid that duty calls. Perhaps some other time." He bowed and tossed a wink in Izumi's direction on his way out.

"Don't come back," Izumi replied with a dangerous glint in her eye and an even more dangerous forced smile on her face that promised slow death. He flashed another smirk and disappeared down the dirt road in his shiny military boots and crisp blue uniform. The sky was darkening – it looked like it was about to rain.

Alphonse was still standing in the hall, clutching the envelope tightly in his hands like a lifeline.

* * *

Everything hurt.

His arms hurt (even though he was missing one), his legs hurt (he was missing one of those too), and his head felt like it was being crammed into a screaming tea kettle. Hell, even his goddamn hair felt horrible, and hair shouldn't be able to feel anything at all. Crash-landing after an inter-dimensional flight sucked. The fake glasses weren't helping his headache either.

_**(Keep to yourself.)**_

'_Damn this_,' He thought to himself, but refrained from cursing aloud – there were enough people in the room staring at his odd style of dress and his bedraggled appearance; he didn't need to attract anymore strange stares for suddenly swearing at nothing and no one in particular.

_**(Tell no one of your task. Do not let them know who you are.)**_

He hadn't meant for it to happen; he hadn't even known it was supposed to happen. Stupid Gate, stupid Guardian, stupid self for agreeing to this like a fucking idiot. How was he supposed to keep them from recognizing him? Why the hell did he even come back, if he wasn't even allowed to tell them who he was?

_**(You have no choice. You have no freedom. You are bound to your duty and your world.)**_

Well, at least six years of the war's aftermath and economic poverty on the other side had perfected his poker face. Even as he mentally cursed in four different languages, his face remained perfectly stoic. His stride was steady and controlled even when, in truth, every single step sent needles of fire through his veins.

_**(You are the Equalizer now. The previous one will help you and pass on the task when the time comes.)**_

His head throbbed from the sheer amount of information that had been crammed into it, and his inner scientist was still screaming and frothing over how none of it made any sense. It wasn't fair – it wasn't even logical for the Gate (whatever he, she, _it_ was) to send him on this wild goose chase without telling him what exactly he was supposed to do, or how to do it.

"May I help you, sir?" The lady at the desk asked him meekly and blinked at him expectantly through her thick glasses. The moment she made eye contact, she immediately felt the intimidation settle over her like a heavy coat; he looked altogether too serious with his black hair pulled back into a ponytail and his stance too rigid to be natural. His face looked young, but there was a grim set to his jaw, like someone who had been to hell and back. But most of all – it was his eyes. Despite his glasses, they were unsettling, unnatural gold eyes that burned her and turned her gaze away.

_**(Their lives, their futures, the weight of the world rest on your shoulders now. Failure will not be forgiven. You are no longer your own.)**_

"I need to register for the State Alchemist Exams." _'Great. I get to become a dog of the military. Again.'_

She blinked at him again, this time in realization. Well, that explained his strange appearance and his intense eyes. Alchemists were always a queer bunch. "Your name and identification please. Please fill out this form and come this way for a photo when you are finished."

He picked up a pen and began by filling in. Lies spilled across the paper as smoothly as the wet ink. Five minutes later, he was done, his picture was taken, and he left the same way he came. And that was that.

Just one more thing he had to do. Even if he couldn't reveal himself, if he never saw them again, he had to make sure they were safe, and not even the end of the world would stop him. Maybe they couldn't see him, but the Gate (she, he, _it_) never said anything about whether or not he could see _them_. Any risk involved could be damned for all he cared.

The tickets to Risembool crinkled quietly in his pocket.

_

* * *

Author's Note:_

CURRENTLY SEEKING A BETA.

_If anyone spotted a mistake, or if there are any questions about the timeline, the characterization, or anything else, either review or drop me a PM, and I'll answer it._

_~The Quiller  
_


	2. Chapter II: Those Who Wait

Final Alchemy

Chapter II: Those Who Wait

'_The worst way to miss someone is to be sitting right beside them, knowing you can't have them__.__'_

_-Unknown

* * *

_

Roy Mustang, contrary to popular belief, was an intellectual. Or, at least, he liked to think of himself as one. As his driver (deaf and mute, or at any rate, responsive only to road directions) took him from the train station to his office, Roy found his thoughts wandering.

They were generally harmless thoughts. Chess games with the retired politicians, Hawkeye's iron discipline for paperwork, dating escapades, and the like. It was only when they drove past a graveyard – a military graveyard – that his thoughts took a turn for the worse.

Most of graves belonged nameless soldiers that were killed in action. These were the generic, grey, expressionless graves; undisturbed and unvisited save for the occasional flower from friend or family. Some graves, along with their occupants, were forgotten.

He visited two particular graves regularly. One belonged to Maes; Gracia and Elicia had probably already laid a fresh batch of flowers there. Roy made a mental note to drop by and check on them later.

Then there was the other grave. There were always fresh flowers there – its occupant was famous and had many admirers. Roy had made sure of it when he had the media release the entire story, giving the public a heart wrenching tale of a teenage alchemist, brilliant and charismatic, who sacrificed himself to save the nation from a dark conspiracy. While Roy couldn't help but laugh at the public's impression of Elric, he hoped that massive media coverage would increase the chances of someone spotting the young alchemist, wherever he was.

Even after three years, Roy couldn't bring himself to believe that the kid was really dead.

He was jarred out of his thoughts when the car screeched to a stop in front of Central Headquarters. He looked up, and as expected, Riza Hawkeye was already there, standing smartly at attention and ready to escort him back to his office. Punctual as ever.

"General. You're late." Her words were terse, brief enough to be mistaken for rudeness had they not known each other so well. He paused for a moment to check if his customary, self-satisfied smirk was in place before turning to face her.

"If you missed me, you could have just asked to come along." He teased, "You need a vacation."

"And you, clearly, don't," she calmly replied. She fell in step beside him as they walked towards the office and handed him a thick, yellow manila folder. "These are all of the applicants to the State Alchemist Exams that have yet to be reviewed. Most of them came in yesterday."

Roy frowned as he opened the folder, commenting, "If they procrastinated until now, then they're either incompetent, or unreliable. Or they just like being troublesome."

"Says the one who's about four days behind schedule in paperwork." Hawkeye gave him a sharp, reprimanding look, and Roy inwardly cringed. Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye controlled his paperwork with an iron fist. It was a good thing he forbade any of the staff from carrying firearms to the upper office levels, or he might have found himself being forced to work at gunpoint.

He flipped through the applications lazily and read them off for Riza's benefit. "Rylzek Qahartz. Can't pronounce his name. Rejected. Bryan Courier? Didn't he fail the last…five times? Rejected. Yeslov Huinnet. Looks like a gorilla and about as smart as one too. Rejected."

Hawkeye sighed. "General, you need legitimate reasons to reject applicants."

"Those were legitimate. Oh. Who's this?" Roy stopped mid-step, gazing at the application in front of him. Riza glanced over his shoulder and managed a sharp intake of air in surprise when she saw the photo.

"Adler Hederich. Age twenty-two. Amestrian heritage, but lived in Drachma for most of his life. Specializes in mechanics and biophysics." Roy Mustang mused over the photo, quickly noticing Hederich's strikingly gold eyes. "The age is wrong, and the hair color too, but I could have sworn that face was Elric's. Gold eyes aren't common."

"Is it him?" Hawkeye asked, fixing the photograph with a distrustful glare.

Roy glanced down at Hederich's form. The spaces under 'Family', 'Prior Military Service', and 'Goals' were suspiciously blank, but there was enough information on the application form to run a background check on.

"Riza, take this to 'Foreign Archives'. I want you to run a level two background check on this guy. I've got to arrange something with a few people." Without leaving her anytime to protest, he handed the manila folder back to her and made a beeline for the driver still parked outside the building.

"General? General Mustang!" He ignored her. She frowned, and shouted, "Roy, what about your paperwork?"

"Give it to Havoc!" came the lighthearted reply, before he disappeared into the car.

Riza sighed. Some people never change.

* * *

He let out a long and aggravated groan before setting the newspaper back onto the table.

So Mustang was leading the country now. Great, just great. Roy would see his application form, then, and run a background check because the man was a paranoid freak. He had planted the necessary files into the database already, which meant that as long as the investigation wasn't too thorough, he was safe.

But it also meant that Mustang would be suspicious of him, which also meant that he would have role-play 'Hederich' twenty-four seven. He groaned.

Life sucked.

Well, at least he knew the bastard was alive. Even if he would never _ever_ admit it, he trusted Roy implicitly and felt just a little better knowing that Amestris was in capable hands.

Didn't change the fact that man was still an irritating bastard though.

He glanced at clock on the wall. Two-thirty; his train left Central in another hour. He grabbed his overcoat and hailed a cab to the train station.

* * *

Al struggled to keep his luggage from being trampled as he was jostled along with the rest of the crowd. Central's train station was chaotic – Al was dazed by the sheer number of people and shipments flooding on and off the train. It seemed that there were signs everywhere telling him where to go, and all of them either contradicted each other or pointed back the way he came.

He was too busy trying to find an exit to notice where he was going, and ran head on into someone.

"Oof!" Al lost hold of his luggage and landed in a confused sprawl. He looked up and saw a man who was just a little older than Winry, dressed smartly in an ironed white shirt and black slacks. The intellectual glasses and neat black ponytail completed the aristocratic look.

"I'm sorry." Al scrambled to his feet and bowed a quick apology. The man looked at him oddly and Al felt twinge in his chest as he met the man's gaze. _Gold eyes._

Weird. The man seemed incredibly familiar, but Al couldn't remember when or how he knew the man. Maybe it had been someone he met during the years that he had forgotten?

"Sir? Do I know you?"

The man's expression flickered between a thousand different emotions - surprise, pain, sorrow, relief - before a mask-like, faint smile slid into place. He picked up Al's dropped luggage and handed it back to him.

"Be careful," the man said quietly. "Central isn't a safe place." Then he ruffled Al's hair and boarded the train just before a crowd of people squeezed between them; by the time the crowd cleared, the man was already gone.

It was odd, how familiar the man seemed, but Al shrugged it off as a strange coincidence. It wasn't until his cab had almost reached his Exam living quarters that realization struck.

That gold-eyed man resembled his _father_.

* * *

It had been raining ever since Al left for Central the day before.

Winry let out a frustrated sigh and slammed her wrench back onto the workbench. She hated the humidity – it made the metal joints rust and the electric circuits go haywire. But the weather seemed oblivious to her troubles and just kept raining, and raining, and raining.

She couldn't hear anything except rain. The house was all too silent for her liking.

"What's wrong?" Pinako asked, looking up from her own automail. "Did you miss a wire?"

"No, it's nothing, Grandma. I just hate the rain," Winry answered. She flopped back onto her chair and complained, "The house is just too quiet, I guess. I mean, Rose moved out, Izumi and Sig already went home, and now Al's gone too. It just feels weird without them here."

Pinako nodded knowledgably. "In other words, you miss them."

"Yeah, I miss them. Ever since…I really hate it when people leave," she said softly, "It feels like I'm being left behind. Again."

"You miss _him_," the old woman deduced immediately. There was no need to specify who she was referring to.

Winry picked up her wrench again and absentmindedly tightened the joints. "It's been three years, Grandma. Three entire years. He should be home already, or at least have contacted us by now. Al still believes in him, but I'm not sure anymore. I want to believe, but…I just don't think he's coming back."

"Winry-"

The air suddenly shook with the roar of thunder, and the house went dark. Winry leapt out of her seat in surprise before realizing that the thunder had caused a blackout.

"Hang on, Granny, I'll go get the candles," she hastily offered, groping her way towards the door through the dark.

The moment the door was open, Den jumped on her, whimpering and barking excitedly. Winry knelt down and soothed, "Calm down, Den. It's just a blackout. They'll fix it soon."

The dog, however, refused to calm down. He kept barking and whimpering frantically, occasionally jerking on the bottom of her work jeans, as if he wanted her to follow him. Winry frowned – Den had been through blackouts before, and he had never reacted so excitedly to them. Maybe something else was bothering him?

Den jerked on her jeans once more before padding down the hallway, pausing at the corner expectedly. Winry hesitated, and then followed, keeping a hand against the wall just in case she tripped.

He led her through the living room and into the kitchen before sitting down in front of the backdoor, tail wagging excitedly. Winry tentatively stopped in front of the kitchen's backdoor as well, glancing around.

"What is it, Den? I don't see anything."

Just then, another bolt of lightning flashed outside, and Winry's heart missed a beat.

There was a silhouette of a man outside the window. A strange man was circling their house. Winry felt cold fear slide through her – during a blackout, none of the telephone lines worked, and the nearest neighbor was a ten minute walk away.

"Den. Go find Grandma." Winry whispered. The dog looked at her quizzically, but she pointed firmly down the hall and Den grudgingly complied, slinking out of the kitchen towards the workshop. Once the dog was out of sight, Winry tightened her grip around the wrench in her hands and creaked open the door as quietly as she could.

It was still raining hard outside. Winry squinted through the darkness as she slowly sneaked her way around the corner. She swallowed nervously – she could see the strange intruder now; he was a head taller than her, and wore a dark overcoat. Definitely dangerous.

He was glancing around the next corner, his back to her. She snuck up behind him before taking a deep breath. Gripping her wrench and clenching her teeth, she swung at the back of his head as hard as she could.

At that exact instant, he ducked. Winry's swing carried her forward, into him, and in a split second, he had grabbed her arm and sidestepped her swing completely. She choked in surprise and lashed out with her foot before throwing another punch at him. In the confused scuffle, she lost grip of her wrench, and he pinned her down clawing and biting.

Winry struggled, but his grip was like iron. "Let go! I'll scream!"

To her surprise, he did.

"Winry?"

Winry froze. She knew that voice. He met her eyes, and she saw a flash of gold behind a pair of glasses in the darkness.

No way. _There's no_ _way it could be him_.

"Ed?"

_

* * *

_

_Author's Note:_

STILL SEEKING A BETA READER

_I'm still trying to get a feel for the characters, so I apologize for any OOC-ness. I can't quite get the chapters to flow properly from on scene to the next, but I'm working on it._

_Again, if anyone spotted a mistake, or if there are any questions about the timeline, the characterization, or anything else, drop me a PM and I'll answer it._

_~The Quiller  
_


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